Dear love,

I’ve been trying to write to you for quite some time now, but couldn’t put anything on paper except for those meaningless doodles.

Well, that’s because every time I think of you, swarms of butterflies start flapping their wings of love in my stomach, making me wonder if I do the same to you.

Anyhow, I have a lot to confess.

The thing is, no living being is perfect and neither am I. In fact, I am rather clumsy with many inbuilt imperfections.

I step on people’s toes and trip over things almost all the time. My eyes can’t resist leaking salt water every now and then. The laughs I laugh are the loudest in the group. I often lose money. Worse, I forget collecting the due balance after having made the payment. I go gaga over soft toys and yes, even though I have surpassed my teenage, I haven’t been able to overcome my love for the colour pink or black. Indeed, I am awkward. And strange. And silly.

Sure enough, loving everything about me would be difficult for you. Also, because I understand… I understand that none in the world can completely match the image of the better half one decorates one’s heart with.

With all possibility, I might not match the imaginary creation of the woman you’d been wanting in your life for so long. And chances are that you’d not match the creation I’ve been working on since the time I had my first-ever-crush.

But remember, I wouldn’t want you to mould yourself so as to satisfy the picture I created in my heart’s heart. Likewise, I wouldn’t want you to want me to change myself so as to satisfy yours. And believe me, believe me, you and I, in our exclusive, unadulterated, unchanged selves, shall surpass the beauty of our creations by creating a superlative piece of real world.

After all, isn’t this what life is all about? Finding not a perfect fairytale prince charming but someone who’s far from perfect, yet perfect for you, who’s imperfect, to create an imperfectly perfect reality?

You and I shall do exactly that, dear one. Exactly that!

So, here I am, hoping that you’d accept my flaws along with my strengths; that you’d respect each of my shortcomings that make me, me; that you’d love me the way I am and adore me for who I am.

Because honestly, I do, and it’d be great to have someone welcoming me in his life who hands me no volumes of ‘Rules to be Followed’ handbooks.

And oh, in case nobody tells you, I want you to know that you are precious. Precious to me!

Boggled at the strangeness of how I know not if we’ve ever met, yet such upsurge of emotions, are you? Well, this is how affection works, I guess.

Um, just a random question though, do my thoughts even cross your mind ever? Or is it me qualifying an altogether different level of weirdness, I wonder.

Tell me about it when we meet, okay? And along with that, tell me about every twisted frightened thought you’ve ever had; about the things that make your heart bounce with rapture; about that one best friend you had, who is now a mere acquaintance; about how you drown your problems in a glass of alcohol only to later regret; about your heart having an exclusive room for insecurities and about how badly you want to vent them out; tell me, tell me about your dreams, secrets, embarrassing moments, passion, this, that; about every possible thing that people thought weren’t worth lending a ear to. Because I will… I will listen. Patiently. Willingly. Merrily.

Till then, know that you are loved; that you are loved in an ethereal kind of way.

The kind of way in which you too perhaps love me, or so I like to think.

 

Your future wife

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